


Sensory Overload Protocol

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blowjobs, Caring Tony Stark, Dubious Consent, M/M, Only because Peter's stuck, Peter Parker is stuck, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Peter's hanging out at Tony's waiting for him, snoops through his bedroom and finds himself in a crazy position





	Sensory Overload Protocol

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I wrote a short time ago in discord and forgot to post  
Peter's of age in this one

The tower penthouse was swanky. It was an old word, Peter knew, but it was still an apt description of Tony Stark’s living space. A space that Peter had access to, even though he rarely went there without an invitation – and had never actually been there _alone_.

Tony was in the building, he knew, but he was in a conference several floors below, and had simply reminded Peter that he didn’t have to hang out in the hallway waiting for him when there was a perfectly good apartment upstairs, complete with stocked fridge (and bar – but stay away from my booze, kid!) and a huge TV that was streaming anything he could think of. Why stand around, waiting, when the sofa was expensive leather and was designed to practically cradle you from the moment you settled on it?

The door opened for Peter without issue, and he looked around with interest, kicking off his shoes and walking in his socks straight into the kitchen area. It was an automatic thing to open the fridge, just to see what was in there. He wasn’t even hungry, really. But he leaned on the door for several long moments, debating if he wanted juice, fruit, yogurt or some left-over pizza, that was all meat – Peter’s favorite.

He finally just closed the door and walked over to the sofa, sliding his hand along the back of it. He pulled off his sweatshirt, leaving jeans and a well-worn t-shirt with a science joke that most people had to ask him to explain. He liked the fact that Tony had gotten the punchline, immediately, and had even chuckled.

Peter debated watching a show, or something, but instead looked around the room and the doors that led off from it.

One was a bathroom; Peter knew, because he’d used it, before. One was Tony’s bedroom (which he’d seen a glimpse of through a half-opened door once), one went to his workroom, and the other the private gym he’d seen before. Peter walked over to the bedroom door, peeking in, feeling a little guilty for doing it, but curious enough that he talks himself into it, anyway.

The bedroom isn’t nearly as posh as the rest of the apartment it. Not really. Dominated by a huge bed, there’s a walk-in closet that has a dresser as well as countless jackets, shirts and neatly hung slacks lining three walls, while shelves held accessories of every sort that a successful billionaire/superhero might need. Peter opened the top drawer of the dresser, idly, and saw stacks of neatly folded boxers on one side of the drawer and row upon row of folded socks.

Answers the boxers or briefs question, anyway, he thought, amused.

He smiled, taking a deep breath, simply smelling Tony Stark in the air. His cologne, his body wash – maybe even his mouthwash hovering in the air.

He liked it.

It was comforting like nothing else in Peter’s life (except May) was.

Peter wandered back out into the main part of the bedroom, and inevitably ended up standing by the bed. It was massive, with a ton of pillows – probably so Tony could prop himself up and work on his tablet, or phone, or laptop or whatever piece of technology he was using at the moment. Peter did notice that there wasn’t a TV, though, but he supposed that with retractable displays everywhere – and he knew they were there, even if he didn’t see them just then – Tony probably didn’t actually need a TV.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and then flopped backward, unable to stop himself from such a child-like, exuberant, gesture. The bed was soft, comfortable, and warm. And if the closet had smelled of Tony Stark, the bed was the same – only magnified by a thousand.

“Wow…” he murmured aloud. “This is…” he couldn’t even think of a word to describe how it felt. In Tony Stark’s bed (without him in it with him, of course, but still…) it was intimate, and exciting and… “_Dangerous_,” he muttered, sitting upright.

He’d better get out of there before the meeting ended and Tony caught him in his bedroom – much less in his bed.

_“Activating the SENSORY OVERLOAD protocol.”_

Peter’s head shot up. He recognized FRIDAY’s voice, immediately, of course, and it startled him, but what did she say?

“What?”

Before he could react, and only because he wasn’t expecting anything to happen, he found himself suddenly caught. Something was holding him in an implacable grasp, like a giant hand wrapped around his torso. He was lifted maybe a foot above the bed and turned onto his back, and now whatever had been supporting his torso was supporting the entire length of his body – but he didn’t feel anything actually _touching_ him. It was like he was levitating, floating completely without any weight.

“Hey!”

He struggled against the unseen force, but even his strength couldn’t do him any good when he didn’t have anything to hold onto. The same force held his head still, now, and something dark was suddenly over his head, casting him into true darkness.

Even crazier, while that was happening, he hadn’t realized that his clothing was being pulled off; socks, jeans – _boxers_! – and then his shirt.

“Abort! Abort!"

At least he could still talk – although he had no idea what command was in place to release him.

It was easy to lose track of time – he couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t feel anything, really, and he couldn’t see anything. He’d probably been struggling to free himself for a few minutes – maybe ten minutes at the most – when he felt the vibrations beginning. They started at his neck, and his shoulders; a soft thrumming that was like a water massager he’d tried at the Y one time only even gentler and all over. Peter stopped his struggles for the moment, realizing that the overload protocol had to be some kind of massage, sensory deprivation thing. It was a massage program. Not surprising for someone who worked as hard as Tony did, and who had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Of course he needed something like that.

He tried to relax, thinking that maybe the program would note tense muscles and not release until he was less stressed. The thrumming continued down his shoulders, to his back, his lower back, his rear – which felt odd and a little exciting in its own right – and then down his legs and even to his feet. Then it reversed, coming up his body from the top. Ankles, shins, thighs, hips. Peter gasped when he felt the pressure on his groin and didn’t need to be able to feel anything to know that the blood was rushing to his midsection at the sensation. There was no way. He struggled, again, with absolutely no success. The sensation continued up his stomach and along his chest, and then went back to his groin, where it was apparently programed to pay special attention.

“No…” he groaned, trying to buck his hips, or pull away (he didn’t know which). “Hey… stop…”

><><><>>> 

The conference was boring. Important, yes, but boring as fuck. Especially when he knew that Peter was upstairs in his apartment waiting. They didn’t have anything scheduled; he’d been pleasantly surprised to see the young man loitering around the hallway, clearly looking for him after he hadn’t found him in his office. But a surprise visit from Peter was always a fun thing. Always something to be cheerful about. Unless, of course, you had an important meeting to attend, first.

Done, now, though, and he made a bee-line to the elevator as soon as he could free himself of the other suits. Pepper could have handled it – but she was out of town, and had made him promise.

Ugh.

He was already loosening his tie as he exited the elevator only minutes later, and he smiled when he saw Peter’s tennis shoes by the door of the apartment.

“Honey, I’m home,” he quipped, looking toward the kitchen when first glance didn’t show the boy in the living room.

No response.

“Peter?”

The bathroom door was open, so he wasn’t there.

“FRIDAY? Where’s Peter?”

_“In your bedroom.”_

“What? Why?”

_“Presumably he needed to unwind.”_

“What are you talking about?” he asked, walking over to his door. “I don’t- oh, my…”

Peter was in his bed. Well, technically he was suspended _above_ his bed – only about a foot or so, just enough to get the whole floating vibe, Tony knew. Somehow he’d been caught up in his sensory overload protocol, because he couldn’t think of any other way the boy could have managed to be naked, hovering and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, with his cock standing at full attention almost indecently, precum dribbling down the shaft and pooling at the base, drenching the boy’s testicles and pelvis.

He was gifted, yes, but that would have been pushing things.

“How long has he been like this?” Tony asked, walking over to get a closer look, and feeling a faint stirring in his stomach at the sight of Peter in a position that wasn’t too far off from the one he pictured in his mind a thousand nights with his cock in his hand.

_“One hour and twelve minutes.”_

“Poor baby…”

The program wasn’t designed to allow an orgasm, only to get close, and then back off when the sensors felt the body reaching the tension that indicated an imminent climax. Then it would wait, and start stimulation, again, repeating the process.

_“Cease program?”_ FRIDAY asked.

“No.”

With a slight smile on his face – since no one could see it – Tony took off his jacket and let it fall to the side. He unbuttoned his shirt, and slid his hand down along the growing bulge in the front of his pants. He never would have anticipated this happening, of course, but he was opportunistic enough to take advantage of it. As long as he was careful, and didn’t scare away his prize.

He couldn’t keep Peter like he was forever, after all. No matter how much the thought appealed to him. He went into his bathroom and wet down a washcloth with cool water, wringing it out and then setting it on the stand beside his bed.

Then the older man climbed up onto his bed, on his knees beside the prone form; close enough now to see he was trembling. There wasn’t a mask, but Tony knew that he couldn’t see or hear, due to a program and a tricky field of tech that messed with the spectrum. His eyes went to the boy’s cock. So perfect, really. Just the right size, wonderfully thick, red with desire and glistening with precum. Every muscle was tense, his hands were balled into tight fists.

“FRIDAY, allow audibles.”

He waited just a moment, and then ran his palm along the sweaty forehead.

“Peter?”

Peter wasn’t certain that he’d actually heard his name. Or felt something brush along his head. He opened his eyes – or maybe they were _already_ open – but he couldn’t see anything, and he was just too spent, now, to even struggle. He heard a moan – his own – and shuddered as the vibrations continued to focus on his cock, driving him once more toward a climax that he knew by now he wasn’t going to be allowed to experience.

The hand touched him, again, tenderly, and this time he was sure that he felt it.

“Peter, honey…”

“Tony?”

He was beyond the point when he would have been mortified at being caught in the position he was in. He didn’t know when he’d reached that point, he didn’t know how much time had passed, but every nerve seemed to be on fire and he was so anxious to be touched by then that all he could do was sob.

“Shhh…” Tony’s voice was tender. “I’m going to get you freed, okay? I need you to relax for a minute.”

Relax? That wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

“FRIDAY, allow vision, incrementally…”

What had been pitch darkness was slowly returning to regular sight, but it was doing so slowly, carefully. Peter knew he’d have been blinded for a while if it had been done differently. Tony was smart. Intelligent. Perfect.

He found himself looking up at the ceiling of the bedroom, and shuddered, again, as the vibrations brought him to the edge the climax, once again, only to stop – again.

“Please…”

“Easy, honey,” Tony’s voice was soft, and so tender that Peter wanted to see the expression on the man’s face – only he still couldn’t move. “We have to go slowly, especially after you’ve been in the protocol for so long. Okay?”

Peter tried to nod, but couldn’t move.

“Okay…”

His voice sounded odd, even to him.

Tony reached for the cloth and held it above Peter’s eyes so he could see it.

“I’m going to wipe you off, so don’t panic.”

“Okay.”

He felt the cloth touch his face, first, wiping his forehead, and then his cheeks, his jaw and his chin. It was cool against his overheated skin, and felt incredible. Like liquid fire, only cool and refreshing everywhere it touched.

He moaned when the cloth went to his neck and then his chest, and Tony crooned softly to him as he slid it along the muscular stomach, caressing as much as wiping, really, and allowing his hand to follow, touching the heated skin with calloused fingertips.

“Can you feel that, honey?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Feels good.” He shuddered, again, and Tony watched in fascination as a veritable flood of precum drooled from the slit on the throbbing cock, sliding obscenely along the shaft to join the pooling mess already soaking Peter. “Please… turn it off.”

“Slowly,” Tony told him, tenderly pressing a kiss against the boy’s stomach. “We’re getting there.”

“It’s killing me…” his voice was shaky, and Tony knew that he was on the upside of one of the arousal cycles.

“It only feels that way,” he assured Peter, making sure to keep his voice soft to avoid adding to the stimulation he was already getting as he was coming down from the sight and sound deprivation. “It won’t kill you. I promise.”

The boy had closed his eyes; obviously the minimal light in the room was too much for him.

“It’s… I’m so…”

“Shh… I know, honey, and I’m sorry. It will hurt you if I just shut it off cold turkey – believe me.”

“I need to… I want…”

“Relief?”

If his face could have been redder, Peter would have flushed. As it was, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to nod, but found he still couldn’t move.

“Yes.”

“I could help you. If you want.”

“Please. _Anything_.”

It would add to his stimulation, Tony knew, but only for a moment, and then it would definitely take the edge off. For a while, at least.

“This isn’t how I wanted our first time together to be,” Tony told Peter moving himself down on the bed until he was kneeling beside the boy’s hip.

“Please…” then a pause. “You wanted us to be together?”

“We’ll talk about it when you’re not quite so compromised, honey,” Tony told him, reaching his hand out and wrapping his calloused fingers around Peter’s shaft as gently as he could.

If Peter had control over his muscles, Tony knew he would have jumped at the touch. As it was, he could feel and see all of them tense under Peter’s pale, flawless, skin and the younger man gasped.

“Did that hurt?”

“A little.”

He let go, leaned over and licked a stripe, carefully, along the length of the shaft, through the moist sheen of precum and ended at the head, where he flattened his tongue to lap the newest deposit from the slit.

“Better?” he asked, smacking his tongue a little against the roof of his mouth, savoring the taste of him on his pallet.

“Yes. _God_…”

He would have made it better for him, but Tony knew it wasn’t the time to make Peter writhe under him. Instead, he simply took him in his mouth, his tongue working the length as he slid Peter’s cock into his mouth and then into his throat, carefully not sucking more than necessary to allow the boy to feel the sensation.

Peter groaned, and not surprisingly, he came before Tony had bobbed his head over him more than a dozen times. The older man swallowed him, licking him, lovingly, and clearing him off, finishing with a few light licks at the top and Peter sobbed, even as he started to soften for the first time in what felt like days – although Tony knew it was only a couple of hours, now.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, wiping the tears squeezed from Peter’s tightly closed eyes with the wet cloth. “It’s okay, honey. I’m here.”

“Tony…”

He took hold of Peter’s hand, holding it as tightly as he dared, but making sure the boy could feel him.

“Shh…” he pressed a kiss against Peter’s eyes, and then one on the tip of his nose. “FRIDAY? Start dialing the vibrations back, ten degrees at a time over an hour.”

“An hour?? I’ll be dead by then…”

Tony chuckled.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.”

In order to keep him from panicking, Tony allowed the protocol to keep Peter held tightly for the entire time that it took the program to wind down. Tony watched, infatuated, as the vibrations aroused Peter again, almost immediately. He sucked him off before it became too much of a problem for Peter, and once more the boy returned to fully aroused condition in only a matter of minutes. And, out of pure stubbornness, Tony went down on him, again.

“That’s incredible…” he said, his voice truly awed as he watched Peter get hard, again. “Is that from being eighteen? Or from being enhanced?”

Peter was beyond embarrassed, but was grateful to say the least for the assist. He simply looked up at the ceiling (which luckily did not have a mirror on it) and wished that he could cling to the hand that he could feel holding his own.

“I don’t know. When I was fourteen – before the bite – I was pretty much always jerking off. I don’t remember it taking much to get up.”

“You’d probably make a killing as a porn star.”

That forced a chuckle from the boy.

“I think you have to be ruggedly good looking,” he said. “Which leaves my baby face out of it. “You’d do well, though.”

An hour later, FRIDAY and Peter both announced that the vibrations were ceasing, and the boy sighed a huge sigh of relief, although he was still trembling.

“Release him, FRIDAY,” Tony ordered, pulling the bedding back before the program slowly lowered him to the surface of the bed, and then released all constraints still holding Peter.

He sat up, immediately, but found himself leaning precariously when the world suddenly went bright all around him for just a moment.

“Easy,” Tony murmured, insinuating himself against him, supporting him. “You’re free of it, but it definitely took a toll. Take it easy, alright?”

“What the hell was _that_?” Peter asked, closing his eyes and allowing his cheek to press against Tony’s chest.

“It’s the SENSORY OVERLOAD program,” Stark replied. “I use it when I’m stuck on a problem, or trying to clear my head.”

“With a _vibrator_??” Peter muttered. “Who does that to themselves?”

“Crazy, rich, geniuses, I guess,” Tony told him with another chuckle. “It’s incredibly efficient. I’ve solved a lot of tech glitches in my suits using it.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Feels good, though,” Tony said, nuzzling the boy’s neck, which made Peter automatically raise his head to give him access to the tender skin there. “The real question isn’t why I _have_ it, but what you were doing in my bed, in order to activate it. There’s a reason it isn’t set up out in the kitchen, after all.”

Peter had regained enough color to blush. And he did.

“Yeah. I was just looking around while I was waiting for you. The bed looked comfortable, so I sat down on it. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He ran his hand over Peter’s bare back, and felt him shiver. “You should probably stay here, tonight,” he suggested. “There’s no way you’re going to be feeling up to going anywhere.”

He knew that from experience.

Peter was too wiped out to even pretend to protest that he was fine.

“You don’t mind?”

“No. I like the idea.” He took Peter’s hand, guiding it to the noticeable swelling in his slacks. “Obviously.”

That produced a wan smile, and the boy caressed him through the fabric.

“I like the idea, too, Tony.”

The billionaire tilted Peter’s head up to kiss him, but was already unbuckling his belt with his other hand.

“Not that I was keeping track, but you owe me six blow jobs…”

“It was _five_,” Peter countered, unzipping Tony’s slacks and smiling up at him, watching him through his long lashes. “I _was_ keeping track.”

“We need to talk,” Tony told him, lifting his hips so he and Peter could slide his pants off, and they went to the floor.

“Now?” Peter asked, curiously, leaning over.

Tony gasped, and then shuddered, closing his eyes.

“No. _Tomorrow_. Don’t stop.”

There was a slightly muffled chuckle, and then the room was only filled with the sounds of pleasure.


End file.
